The Paths We Take
by Randomnormality
Summary: No matter what choice we made it soon became clear: We could never walk down the path of the virtuous and the path of the corrupt carried too many jaded memories. We will forever walk the path between..
1. Penance: Part I

**The Paths We Take**

**Summary:**

**There is a firm belief that every choice we make spawns two paths we must follow. That one choice will lead us down a path of virtue, leading us toward a brighter future. That the other will lead us down a path of chaos, leading us toward a darker abyss. That was what every has been lead to believe since the dawn of man.**

**It seems to me that I was born to blur the lines between the paths, to walk along the narrow line of good and evil. I tried to walk along a brighter path, to escape the dark confines of my past, to serve a great sense of Penance. When that failed, I found myself on the road of unrelenting Vengeance.**

**In the here and now, I find myself facing the only path deemed necessary for an abomination such as myself. An ultimate sacrifice, my final choice made by an act of Redemption.**

**This is my story, from the darkness of my beginning, to the bittersweet end.**

Pairings: Main- Roy Harper (Red Arrow)/Rai Quincy(Quinn)

Author's Note: This story is going to be broken up into three different story Arcs. Part 1: Penance, Part 2: Vengeance, Part 3: Redemption. Roy Harper/Red Arrow, or any other YJ characters won't be seen until Arc 2, except for a small cameo appearance by a young Artemis. The first part of the story follows the development of my Original Character, known only as Quinn (for now, she doesn't take on the guise of Rai Quincy until Arc 2).

Due to the way the story is going to be written, I've put together a Text Key of sorts:

Text "Text" = regular narrative from Rai's (Quinn's) perspective  
_Text = _Emphasis of word being said or narration thought._  
'Text' = _Inner thoughts_  
"Text" = _French dialect_  
__**Text = **_Because this is my OC telling her story, this font is used to start the chapter before the narrative story begins.

* * *

**Penance  
-Part One-  
**_Le Diable D'Argent Yeux_

* * *

_**My story first takes place in Bordeaux, France, and I met the man that changed my life, for the better...and the worst.**_

The bustling port city of Bordeaux, France was alive with tourists and consumers moving through the market, a variety of fresh foods, accessories, and shopping stalls on display for those passing by. She watches, her face hidden beneath the shade of her hood as she crouches in the shadows of an alley, eyes watching intently and observantly as people move, pointing out different objects and laughing. She was waiting, for the right moment to strike. She was not stupid enough to reveal her position too early, waiting, scouting for her next victim.

Locating her target, a group of well-dressed, giggling young women, most likely just finished with schooling and taking a vacation before going off into the real world. Moving with practiced ease, she eases her body into a nonchalant, relaxed manner, as she walks toward the group. Her shoulder slams into arm of one of the girl, causing it to pull away from her side pocket. She murmurs a series of apologies as she catches the older girl's arms, stopping her from falling. The girl gives her a snobby brush off, but the hooded girl nods insistently feigning the innocence nature of most children. Without missing a beat, the small child walks off, hands slipping into her own pockets and after a few paces she ducks into an alley. Pulling her hand from her pocket, she opens the small wallet, revealing a few hundred in euro banknotes, a large smile forming on her lips. This would last her a couple of months at best.

"You're pretty good kid."

The sudden deep baritone voice causes the small girl to freeze, her fingers instinctively curling around the wallet she acquired. Glancing up from beneath her hood, she stares at the tall man leaning against the side of a building just a few feet away from her. The taut cord of muscles along his exposed arms tells her it would be foolish to try and rush the man. His face seemed to be carefree, almost with a sense of amusement, and a small tick along his strong jawline made her think he was trying to fight off the urge to smirk or laugh at her. His deep black hair, almost as dark as her own, falls just below his earlobes, a subtle shade of blue appearing in his hair.

"Don't worry kid, I'm not going to turn you in," She refuses to relax, having heard this line previously, "I actually found myself impressed someone so young could pull that off so well."

_"Qui êtes-vous? Que voulez-vous?" _she demands, trying to keep her voice strong, despite her nervousness toward the situation.

"My friends all call me Razor, because I'm quick and smart," he responds, his light tone slowly causing her to relax, "and I wonder why an orphan like you isn't in an orphanage?"

"_Personne ne veut adopter Le Diable D'Argent Yeux_," she replies bitterly, looking down at the ground.

"I'm afraid I'm not up to par on my French. Care to translate that last bit?" Razor asks, tilting his head at the small, hidden girl.

"The Silver-Eyed Devil," she answers, her English tongue slightly broken by her French accent, slowly pulling her hood down to reveal eyes of liquid mercury, the eyes seemingly glowing in the shadows of the alley, "I left the orphanage the first chance I had."

"Well, I'm going to be in the area for a couple of days. Why don't you come with me? I have an extra bed in my hotel room no one is using," Her silver eyes darken with suspicion, her head tilting slightly to look up at the taller man, "Think of it this way, you can keep that money you stole from that poor, unsuspecting American tourist and use it later, after I leave."

"Why would you help me?" she asks, wondering why this man would help her.

"I was an orphan too. I managed to get adopted into a family that taught me everything I know now," Razor replies, the small girl wonders what caused the man to suddenly smile, it was a smile she had never seen before.

"Y-you want me, _un monstre_, to come stay with you?" she asks tentatively, for the first time in years she feels a sense of childish wonder fill her.

"Only for the few days I'm here," Razor replies, "and if you want, you don't have to hide those _unique_ eyes when at the hotel."

The hotel room isn't anything overly lavished. Simple and understated. The first night, the nameless girl kept her hood pulled up. By the second day, while in the room, she was surprised when Razor returned from the shopping district with a selection of clothes for her, stating that he figured she wanted a shower. It was the first time she revealed her small, malnourished body, the simple jeans and peasant top hanging off of her body. Her once dirty, mess of black hair fell around her face in soft, gentle curls. The dirt staining her cheeks had been washed away to reveal her soft milk-white complexion and round face. Razor had even gone so far as to get her a pair of darkly tinted sunglasses, so she didn't have to wear a hood all the time.

"You sure you're going to be alright, kid?"

She knew this time was going to come, but an odd sensation in her chest caused her heart to thud heavily. She swallowed the odd lump that forms in her throat, silver eyes hidden behind the tinted shades, a bag gripped in her hand, filled with the clothes he had bought her. She blinked back the prickling sensation along the corner of her eyes, the burning sensation spreading along the edges of her eyelids.

"_Oui_, I-I should be fine. _Merci, merci beaucoup_," she thanks profusely, shifting her weight slightly as her gaze turns to the ground, "I will never forget your kindness."

She turns on heel, inhaling deeply as her mind whirls with plans on what to do, when a hand lands on her shoulder, stopping her retreat, "What would you say if I asked you to come with me?"

She tenses. No one had ever wanted her. Not her birth parents, who tossed her on the step of an orphanage the moment her eyelids opened to reveal their silver depths. Not the other kids who teased her. Not the adults that were curious about her from afar, but once they caught a glimpse of her eyes, she would watch the flicker of fear and disturbed nature appear on their faces. Yet, here was someone that had taken her in, given her the comfort of a semi-normal life and he still wanted her around.

"Y-you want me to stay?" she stutters out in disbelief and when he nods, her fingers releases the bag and she launches herself a the man, hugging him around the waist, "_Merci! Merci! Vous n'avez pas idée de ce que cela signifie pour moi!_"

...

The first year with Razor, she found herself doing everything she could to please him. She often strived to beat his own record on an obstacle course he had in his backyard. She pushed herself to vault over walls, run across beams set over mud pits, climb robes and run through a maze of vertical poles she was supposed to weave in and out of, the poles no more than a foot apart. Each time she managed to knock seconds or minutes off of her previous record time, she would see a glint of pride appear on his face.

By the second year, the eight-year-old girl had started to learn self-defense. After getting into a series of fights, where she barely won with her scrappy street fighting style, Razor suggested she let him teach her a few things. At first it was learning how to walk, tip-toe, stand and crouch, teacher her how to keep her center of balance. Then came learning how to run without making noise, how to stay light on her feet and how to even break her fall without hurting herself. After that, she was taught the basics on combat, which began to grow more difficult with each passing session. Not because she was weak. Razor had told her she seemed to get a really good grasp of how to fight at a quick pace.

By the third year, the silver-eyed girl's training had become routine and had evolved from advanced hand-to-hand combat to using blunted weapons. At first, her weapon training had been simple fencing, but after picking up on that quickly, Razor moved on to using other weapons: a bo-staff, nunchuks, sai, throwing stars, and kendo stick. Her favorite had been training with the two twin katana blades -made out of wood- and it pleased her greatly when she noticed his pride only grew from there.

By the age eleven, her fifth year living with Razor, their training sessions had grown from necessity to a way for them to bond. She never called him father, and he never asked her to. He never asked for a name, always called her Kid, and even if she had a name, she felt as though she wouldn't have given it. They knew each other, their personalities, their likes and dislikes.

"Are you sure you're going to be alright, Kid? I should only be out of town for a few days at most," Razor asks, his dark eyes looking over at her as she held the door open, even after he crossed the threshold.

"I will be fine, Razor," she replies, giving him his own smirk in return.

Razor lets out a small chuckle of amusement and ruffles her dark curls, "If I ever had, or will ever have, a kid of my own, I hope they turn out like you."

Her smirk slowly softens to a smile, a smile that was rarely seen by anyone other than him. She watches as he climbs into the vehicle that had pulled up along the sidewalk only minutes ago. Giving him a final wave, her gaze follows from behind her shades as the car disappears and she shuts the door.

_**Even after everything I learned of the man, I still wish that I had taken the time to really tell him what I had thought of him. He was the closest thing I ever had to a parent. I just wish he had told me the truth...**_

* * *

_"Qui êtes-vous? Que voulez-vous?" _- "Who are you? What do you want?"

_Personne ne veut adopter Le Diable D'Argent Yeux _- Nobody wants to adopt the Silver-Eyed Devil

_un monstre -_ a monster, or freak

_Merci, merci beaucoup - _Thank you, that you so much

_Merci! Merci! Vous n'avez pas idée de ce que cela signifie pour moi! -_ Thank you! Thank you! You have no idea how much this means to me!

Author's Note: On a finer note, I would like to state that Razor is actually a DC-canon character and not that of my own -Grins evilly- My chapters are only starting out short, due to most kids only remembering certain key points in their childhood. Not many people can remember every little detail of their childhood, and technically, this is her telling her story.

**Next Chapter: Our nameless child receives bad news...meets the League of Shadows...and gets even worse news...things _blow_ out of proportion...and...she gets a name? Interesting! Leave a review, please and thank you!**


	2. Penance: Part II

**The Paths We Take**

**Summary:**

**There is a firm belief that every choice we make spawns two paths we must follow. That one choice will lead us down a path of virtue, leading us toward a brighter future. That the other will lead us down a path of chaos, leading us toward a darker abyss. That was what every has been lead to believe since the dawn of man.**

**It seems to me that I was born to blur the lines between the paths, to walk along the narrow line of good and evil. I tried to walk along a brighter path, to escape the dark confines of my past, to serve a great sense of Penance. When that failed, I found myself on the road of unrelenting Vengeance.**

**In the here and now, I find myself facing the only path deemed necessary for an abomination such as myself. An ultimate sacrifice, my final choice made by an act of Redemption.**

**This is my story, from the darkness of my beginning, to the bittersweet end.**

Pairings: Main- Roy Harper (Red Arrow)/Rai Quincy(Quinn)

Author's Note: This story is going to be broken up into three different story Arcs. Part 1: Penance, Part 2: Vengeance, Part 3: Redemption. Roy Harper/Red Arrow, or any other YJ characters won't be seen until Arc 2, except for a small cameo appearance by a young Artemis. The first part of the story follows the development of my Original Character, known only as Quinn (for now, she doesn't take on the guise of Rai Quincy until Arc 2).

Due to the way the story is going to be written, I've put together a Text Key of sorts:

Text "Text" = regular narrative from Rai's (Quinn's) perspective  
_Text = _Emphasis of word being said or narration thought._  
'Text' = _Inner thoughts_  
"Text" = _French dialect_  
__**Text = **_Because this is my OC telling her story, this font is used to start the chapter before the narrative story begins.

* * *

**Penance  
-Part Two-  
**_Promesses non Tenues_

* * *

_**I should have known something was wrong. Two weeks passed me by, and I received no word, nor sight of Razor. I should have been on guard. I should have known everything in my life comes with a price...a price too high to bear.**_

Her body hurt, more than she could ever remember it hurting. Her silver eyes snap open the instant reality returns, eyes immediately searching around every inch of the...cell? Why was she in a cell? She vaguely remembers being attacked in her own home, the figures dressed in all black trained well in combat. Her entire body felt heavy, her shifting and movements sluggishly slow, even as she forces her body to sit upright. Something felt entirely wrong with her body, as if everything except for her mind, was unfocused and unresponsive.

"Kid?"

Her metallic gaze snaps toward the sorrowful voice, eyes locking onto a familiar pair of dark eyes staring back at her from an adjacent cell. Razor, in all his glory, sat, his hands shackled above his head, parted away from another, as if to cut off any attempt at escaping. Bruises and cuts adorned his body and from what she could see, his gaze seemed unfocused, but the pained expression was not hidden from her.

"Razor? What's going on?"

The man she had come to know and respect bows his head in shame, "You must forgive me, Kid. I'm afraid I have deceived you," A hurt sensation forms in his mind, her body flinching slightly, "Everyone calls me Razorburn and I am a member of the Seven Men of Death, a team of assassins formed by the League of Shadows." All expression falls from her face, even as he turns his gaze up to meet her empty stare, "I didn't really think I'd get attached to some random street rat from Bordeaux, France, but I knew you were different, even before I saw those unique eyes of your's. I didn't even think when I offered you to come live with me all those years ago, but I can't say I regret it."

"Good for you," she spits out dully, watching with blank eyes as he flinches from her tone, "It seems to me as though I have no idea who I have been living with for the past five years."

"That's the thing," he chuckles out humorlessly, "You know me better than my team. You...got under my skin within the span of five days."

"If you are such a great assassin, why are you here?" she questions mechanically.

Razor sighs, "Trying to leave the League of Shadows is like trying to walk on the surface of the Sun. You'd be dead before your feet touches down. I told them I was finished, that I didn't want to continue this game of fighting between the two Leagues. I should have known they'd go looking for you."

"You were going to walk away from all of this? Even if it meant your death? Why?" she inquires curtly, her hardened gaze looking for any signs of deceit.

"I wanted to have a life with you," he answers as if it was obvious, "For the first time since I was a kid, I realized what it meant to have a family and...I wanted it."

Silence falls over the pair and it felt like ages before the hardened steel gaze softens to the liquid mercury depths, "Me too. I...I wanted it too."

"Listen, Kid, I need you to swear that whatever they promise you, whatever they try to do, don't make any deals," a sharp black eyebrow quirks in response to his plea, "They have you for a reason. If they didn't feel as though you could be turned into an asset, they would have killed you."

"If making a deal with them, grants you to keep your life, I won't hesitate," she watches as his eyes widen in horror, "Even if I have to become an assassin myself, I will do it. Only because I know my life wouldn't mean nearly as much to me if you were not in it."

"I don't want this life for you," he whispers, his usually strong voice breaking only slightly.

She gives him her secret smile, the smile meant only for him, "That isn't your choice to make."

The distant sound of approaching footsteps causes both of them to fall silent. In the matter of moments, her sluggish body is begin dragged down the long winding halls, Razor's equally unresponsive body following paces behind her. Entering a large room, she stares at the men before her, taking notice of the respect her escorts granted these men. The Masters, she assumes, looking over them.

"What is your name, girl?"

With a blank face, the petite girl shrugs, only for one of the men holding her in place to slam his fist into her unprotected stomach. Exhaling from the force of the blow, she listens as Razor begins to struggle against his own keepers, cursing the Masters before him, letting it slip that she carried no name. Eyes of hardened steel stares at the Masters, her chin raising in a subtle show of challenge, her jaw clenching with determination.

"Well, Razorburn, you did manage to bring us quite the specimen," one of the Masters states, as he steps toward her, tracing a finger along her jaw, pulling her hard gaze to him.

A stinging smack rings through the air after she spits in the man's face, her cheek darkening as blood pools beneath the surface of her skin, "Uh, uh, uh, dear child," the man chides in a mocking fatherly tone, "You wouldn't want this act of rebellion to give us reason to terminate Razorburn, do you?"

A tick appears in her jaw as the man steps away, "I do wonder, what a child of obvious abnormalities has to offer the Shadows."

"Leave her out of this, Savage!"

She fights the urge to glance back at Razor, hearing another blow landing against the man's open mid-section. Her eyes watch as a boy with demonic red eyes steps toward her. Something told her he was not as young as he looked. An odd sensation wraps around her, causing her entire body to tense, a darker feeling enveloping her senses.

"Chaos has often spoke of a child born with the ability to tip the scales of balance," the red-eyed boy comments with a sadistic grin, "Perhaps we can persuade the girl to join us?"

Watching the red gaze flick over the the person held behind her, she shakes her head, "Let him go, and I will do whatever you want. Let him leave your services, and I will join you."

She watches as the men before her look at each other before coming to an agreement. She turns just as Razor is released from his keepers. The man instantly makes his way toward her, stumbling slightly. A change in the air appears just as he opens his mouth, probably to argue her agreement, but his eyes pop open wide, a choked gasp leaving his lips. Following his gaze, she feels her face grow pale at the sight of a wicked blade sticking out of his torso. She ignores the cackling laughter as the man in front of her falls to his knees. Her small arms instantly wraps around his shoulders, keeping him from falling back on the blade.

"R-Razor?" she murmurs, her once curt voice breaking as tears form in her eyes, "D-don't.."

"I-I'm s-sorry, K-Kid. I-I wish I c-could have s-sav-ved you," he chokes out, his pale lips turning crimson as he sickening cough racks through his body.

Her hand moves down his back and she removes the blade, his body falling limp, dark eyes staring up at the ceiling, gaze blank and unfocused. No. Not him. Anyone but him. She pleads to the Heavens and more as her face buries in his shoulder, her shoulders shuddering with the sobs that break free of her lips. Clenching her eyes shut, her fingers grip the back of his shoulders as she feels herself breaking in his limp embrace.

"_Ne me quitte pas. S'il vous plaît, ne pars pas. Ne pas me faire ça, je vous en , reviens à moi. S'il vous plaît, revenez. S'il vous plaît. Ne pas y aller. Ne laissez pas,_" she pleads, her French tongue rearing from the depths of her mind.

"Aw...who would have guessed. Razorburn actually has someone crying for him," a cackling high-pitched voice mocks, laughter in his tone.

"_Vous! Vous avez fait cela!_" she cries out as she lays Razor's body on the ground, her hand swiping the blood-stained knife off of the ground, "_Tu vas payer pour ça! Je vais tuer tous jusqu'au dernier d'entre vous!"  
_

She can see her words makes no sense to any of them, but her murderous look must hint at her intentions. One of the four men that had escorted the two of them from the cells lunged at her, and without blinking she turns on spot, moving off to the side to dodge him, her left arm hooking around his chin as she spins to face his back. Her foot slams into the back of his knee, bringing him down to her level and without pause, the eleven-year-old mechanically drags the sharpened blade across the man's throat. Blinking after only a moment, she drops the fresh corpse to the ground and stares coldly at the men before her.

A stunned silence falls over the group, for a few short seconds before the three remaining men rush at the girl. Inhaling deeply, she ducks and dodges their attempts at hitting her, and in one instance, she hooks leg out in front of one of the men, causing him to stumble forward, her knife-wielding hand plunging the blade into his chest cavity. Not pausing to assess the damage, she pulls the blade out as she catches the sound of rushed footsteps approaching her from behind. With practiced ease, her right hand flips her grip on the blade with dexterous motion and her arm extends in front of her before snapping the lethal weapon behind her. A choked gasp is the only response, the footsteps freezing and she takes the moment of surprise to rush toward the fourth, and final, man. Dodging his punches, she angles herself and releases a vicious snap kick to the man's head, but his strong arm hooks around her extended limb, trapping it against his shoulder. Using the momentum of her body, she twists around and pushes herself off of the ground, the man moving his head to dodge her follow-through kick with her left leg. Smirking inwardly, she shifts her weight as her left leg breaks the momentum and hooks around the back of his neck. Planting her left hand flat on the ground, her right palm connects with the man's unprotected rib cage. Feeling his grip on her right leg loosen, she places the flat her boot-clad foot against his cheek and pushes. A sickening crack pierces the air and her right hand moves to the ground quickly to catch herself as the man instantly drops to the floor, and with a quick push, she flips herself back onto her feet, crouching as she stares with narrowed eyes up at the stunned men before her.

The red-eyed demon boy gives a chilling laugh, "Oh this is just great. She's been _trained_."

Her stoic face breaks away, a sneer forming on her lips as she rushes toward the creepy boy, ripping the blood-soaked blade from the still chest of one of the men lying dead on the floor. She barely crossed six feet before a jet of crimson light slams into her, sending her flying back. Grunting as her back hits the floor, her body skidding along the unforgiving floor, she flips to her feet, only to find herself slammed back to the ground, this time on her stomach. Her muscled burned as she tried to push herself up, the strange red beams of energy keeping her pinned to the floor.

"Isn't it cute. She thinks she can actually harm me with such...weapons," the red-eyed demon giggles in playful delight. "Such a waste. It is obvious Razor wasted his time training this...pathetic human child."

A wave of white, hot rage flushes through every inch of her body, her eyes squeezing shut at the thought of failing the only person she had considered family. The swirling fit of fury sends tremor after tremor through her body, her muscles twitching and shaking. An inhuman growl rumbles deep in her chest and she hears the demon's laughter fall silent as her fingers dig into the floor, her entire body struggling as the pressure on her limbs build as she forces her body off of the ground. Her chest heaves with each breath as she makes it to her hands and knees.

"Oh, she moves. Maybe this human child isn't as pathetic as I thought."

"_Je vais profiter de vous tuer, mon garçon diable."_

The monotonous tone is new to even herself, but as the strange sensation that had been building in her body climbs higher and higher, the girl's eyes snap open. Flecks of black and purple stare back at the collection of men before her, contrasting dangerously against her already abnormal silver gaze. Watching the amusement seep out of the crimson gaze, the girl feels the coiled pressure within her chest snap as a growl of unrelenting fury passes her lips. She doesn't even notice the lights crackle, bulbs shattering, the sudden tremor that appears beneath their feet. She doesn't pay mind to the sudden shift in the air, the invisible force of nature beginning to swirl around her. The tri-colored eyes stare blankly at the demon-boy and without warning she feels the energy pinning her to the ground disparate. Lunging forward, her feet quickly follow as she charges straight for the surprised ebony-haired boy.

Her fingers wrap around the pale throat, her knees pinning his shoulders to the floor. His pleas of mercy falls on deaf ears as she feels a strange tickle along the fingers of her right hand. Pulling it up, she stares at the visible sparks crackling at the tip of her fingers. The sudden fear in the red eyes of the boy beneath her causes a sadistic grin to appear on her lips as she reaches down. His howls of pain pierces the air as charge after charge of pure electricity courses through his body. She barely registers the word 'sedate' being yelled before a hot pinch appears in the side of her neck. All of her energy seems to fade instantly and her body collapses to the floor. The colored flecks fade from her eyes as she blinks up at the blurry figures.

"Stupid little girl."

"That's enough Klarion," a muffled voice murmurs, "If this is just the tip of what her power could be, we need to train her...the right way."

_**Even then, I knew my life would never be my own to live. I knew I would be nothing more than a tool. For the three years that followed, I believed I was the only one. Boy was I wrong.**_

* * *

_****__Promesses non Tenues- _Broken Promises

"_Ne me quitte pas. S'il vous plaît, ne pars pas. Ne pas me faire ça, je vous en prie. Reviens, reviens à moi. S'il vous plaît, revenez. S'il vous plaît. Ne pas y aller. Ne laissez pas_- Do not leave me. Please do not leave. Do not do this to me, please. Return, return to me. Please, come back. Please. Do not go. Don't leave!

"_Vous! Vous avez fait cela!"_ - You! You did this!

_Tu vas payer pour ça! Je vais tuer tous jusqu'au dernier d'entre vous!_ - You will pay for this! I will kill every last one of you!

_Je vais profiter de vous tuer, mon garçon diable- _I will enjoy killing you, Devil Boy!

**Thank you for those who alerted this story! I know I don't have any reviews yet, but I suspected I wouldn't. Just to note, Razorburn is a DC comic-canon character, and I need someone who was 1) trained as an assassin, 2) favored blades, 3) had advanced hand-to-hand combat and also be a character that could be expendable, without taking out a main character. There isn't much on Razorburn's past, so I used the lack of information to bend his character to my will, so I made him being able to sympathize with our main character's orphan status. Technically he worked for the League of Assassins, which in some cases some characters for the League of Shadows has been introduced into both Leagues, so I'm just going to go ahead and mesh the two evil Leagues together.**

**I know I promised our character would have a name, but the next chapter will be a three year jump into the future, a quick rundown on her new character development and what has changed and what hasn't. As such, this next chapter will be dedicated to her meeting her team and in turn they will be giving her, her name. Thank you for reading and please, please give reviews. I want to know what you like about the story and what you may not like about it. **


	3. Penance: Part III

**The Paths We Take**

**Summary:**

**There is a firm belief that every choice we make spawns two paths we must follow. That one choice will lead us down a path of virtue, leading us toward a brighter future. That the other will lead us down a path of chaos, leading us toward a darker abyss. That was what every has been lead to believe since the dawn of man.**

**It seems to me that I was born to blur the lines between the paths, to walk along the narrow line of good and evil. I tried to walk along a brighter path, to escape the dark confines of my past, to serve a great sense of Penance. When that failed, I found myself on the road of unrelenting Vengeance.**

**In the here and now, I find myself facing the only path deemed necessary for an abomination such as myself. An ultimate sacrifice, my final choice made by an act of Redemption.**

**This is my story, from the darkness of my beginning, to the bittersweet end.**

Pairings: Main- Roy Harper (Red Arrow)/Rai Quincy(Quinn)

Author's Note: This story is going to be broken up into three different story Arcs. Part 1: Penance, Part 2: Vengeance, Part 3: Redemption. Roy Harper/Red Arrow, or any other YJ characters won't be seen until Arc 2, except for a small cameo appearance by a young Artemis. The first part of the story follows the development of my Original Character, known only as Quinn (for now, she doesn't take on the guise of Rai Quincy until Arc 2).

Due to the way the story is going to be written, I've put together a Text Key of sorts:

Text "Text" = regular narrative from Rai's (Quinn's) perspective  
_Text = _Emphasis of word being said or narration thought._  
'Text' = _Inner thoughts_  
"Text" = _French dialect_  
__**Text = **_Because this is my OC telling her story, this font is used to start the chapter before the narrative story begins.

* * *

**Penance  
-Part Three-  
**_Un Nom de la Signification_

* * *

_**The following three years, at the age of fourteen, I had successfully assassinated forty-seven targets, leaving absolutely no trace of the Shadow's involvement. Failure was not an option for these guys, and I was getting used to the idea of living a lonely life. Until I met them...**_

They called her Shade. Not for any significant reason. She was quick. She was stealthy. She moved along the shadows of buildings, hallways, rooftops, hidden in plain sight. They called her Shade, not only for her secretive tactics, but also because at the age of fourteen, she resembled a shadow of her former self. Her stark black hair still fell around her face in tight spirals of curls. Her eyes, once a glistening shade of liquid mercury, had hardened to a solid steel, not a single trace of any emotion or thought that she might feel. Her petite figure riddled with taut, lean cords of muscles had been conditioned for endurance, her strength proportional to her build. She no longer smiled, nor frowned, nor did she show any sign of humanity.

The little orphan girl no longer existed.

"Those stitches should heal in about a week," she grunts in acknowledgment toward the on-sight doctor, not even looking as he wrapped the bandage around her bicep, the laceration too deep for a regular wrap, but shallow enough that it didn't hinder her skills. "I was informed that you are to report to the conference room the moment you are released from the infirmary."

Grunting once more, she hops off of the table as the man moves away. Rolling her shoulders, she tests her arm's flexibility and nods toward the doctor before moving over to where her jacket and boots rest on a chair. Slipping her feet into the flat-soled combat boots, she laces them tightly before sliding her arms into the sleeves of her leather jacket. Stalking out of the room, she moves through the winding halls, ignoring how passing peons step out of her way. Arriving at the door to the conference room, she doesn't bother knocking as her fingerless-gloved slaps the fingerprint scanner by the door. Stepping through the door after it slides open, the ebony-haired assassin is immediately greeted by five other people.

"Ah, Shade, so good of you to show."

Paying no mind as the four other teens turn in her direction, she leans against the wall by the door, her cold gaze staring back at the blonde-haired man. He calls himself Sportsmaster, the husband of a legendary assassin, Huntress. He often speaks with a condescending tone, but unlike others, she isn't bothered by it. She knows the truth. Just like everyone else, he is expendable, a peon. He happens to be of higher ranking than other peons, but still, a peon.

"The Light have sent message that they want the five of you to forge a team," _This is new,_ she muses silently, "Each of you have the ability to manifest and manipulate certain elements pertaining to your skills," _Them too, huh? _"The Light is granting you a month to train together. Learn strengths, weaknesses and how to work together. You will become a team of covert assassins, and your targets will become better known and higher on the food-chain. Failure to work as a team will result in a suspension."

She remembers suspensions. In the beginning, she fought everything they did to get her to fall in line. The suspensions started with being starved for a few days. The more she fought their tactics, the worse the suspensions were. Her second offense landed her a suspension of being starved for a few days, closer to a weak, and then forced to fight against ten other combat fighters. Her third suspension had her shackled with both hands raised above her head, her feet bound to the floor, and she was beaten until she was unconscious. Only for them to rouse her from her black out and beat her some more.

"From this day forward, you have thirty days to train," Sportsmaster states before leaving the room, the door sliding shut automatically behind him.

"Well, I guess we can start by introducin' ourselves. They call me Zephyr an' I can manipulate the air molecules, winds an' if I concentrate hard enough, I can generate storm fronts."

Zephyr was a pretty girl with vibrant red-orange hair and bright grey eyes. Her body seemed to be built more for endurance and Shade could guess the girl was light on her toes. Shade finds it difficult to imagine someone as obviously free-spirited as the red-head actually worked as an assassin. The girl was dressed in a simple yellow sundress, her olive tan skin free of any blemishes, except for the freckles splashed across her cheekbones.

"They call me Gaea, and I can manipulate anything from grains of sand to shifting rock and I'm think I remember causing a minor earthquake when I was little."

Gaea stood tall and lean, her mocha-colored skin tone set off by deep brown eyes. Shade looks over the girl silently. Shade figured the girl was bi-racial, from the light auburn color in her hair, which from the looks of her roots, was completely natural. Gaea spoke with a self-assured tone, not arrogant, but confident in her abilities. She wore a pair of light blue skinny jeans and a white off-the-shoulder t-shirt, green graphic words printed along the fabric.

"Tempest. I can manipulate water molecules to take any shape."

Short, sweet and to the point. Shade's silver eyes looks over the lanky form of the boy, who sat straight in his chair. His dusty blonde hair and teal-colored eyes seemed to enhance his features. From the looks of it, this cute kid, probably a year older than herself, would grow to be a charming, handsome young man. The boy was dressed in a casual pair of loose-fitting dark blue jeans and a dark blue button-down t-shirt, causing the blue in his eyes to become more pronounced.

"I'm Blaze. I'm pretty sure from the name ye' know I'm a fire manipulator. If there isn't a source of fire nearby, I can raise me own body temperature to the point of combustion between the hydrogen and oxygen molecules in the air."

Shade had to admit, the skill to be able to cause combustion is pretty impressive. The boy, leaning lazily in his chair, had hair just as dark as her own. His amber-brown eyes, even from where she stood, seemed to smolder with an inner flame. The boy's body seemed to have been built around strength, rather than endurance. Shade's gaze moves over the muscular build accentuated by the all black under-armor shirt, his baggy black cargo shorts and combat boots giving off a Rock music influence.

"Well, that's all of the four elements, so what about you, girl?" Shade turns her blank gaze to Tempest, "Sportsmaster stated we each had different abilities, so what do you manipulate."

"I can manipulate Photon particles," she replies curtly, and seeing the confusion appear on their faces, she continues in a deadpanned voice, "I can manipulate different variations of light. They call me Shade."

"You can manipulate light...and they named you Shade?" Blaze chuckles at the irony, "How does that make sense?"

"They call me Shade due to my ability to move without being seen or heard," she informs in a matter-of-fact tone.

"So...you're like...a fifth element, then?" Shade, Blaze, Tempest and Gaea each turn their gazes to the red-head, who blushes, "What? I can be smart when I want to be."

Blaze smirks and glances over at Shade, "So, when ye' say 'different variations of light' what does that mean?"

"If need be I can see in infrared all the way to ultraviolet wave lengths and being able to manipulate photon particles allows me to use various area of electromagnetic radiation," Shade's monotonous voice states.

She is only slightly surprised when Blaze sits upright, a glint of awe flickering in his amber eyes, "You can generate lightning? That is ace!"

Shade looks over the four of them then points to Blaze, "England," her index finger moves to Tempest, "Germany," then Gaea, "Spain," then her finger rests on Zephyr, "Ireland."

"Aren't you an observant one," Gaea remarks sarcastically, "What about you? I don't hear an accent in your voice."

"Bordeaux, France," Shade replies, her accent filtering through the pronunciation of her birthplace, "I was taken into the care by an American drifter and over the years I managed to wipe any trace of my accent."

"French, huh?" Blaze comments, wiggling his eyebrows playfully, "That's a sexy accent."

Shade quirks an eyebrow at his flirting, but she realized he was only teasing her when she notices his amused grin.

"If your French, and your technically a fifth element, why don't we just call you Quintessence?" Tempest asks, Shade's eyes immediately snapping to stare at the water-manipulator, who blushes slightly in discomfort, "It seems more fitting than Shade."

Zephyr giggles, leaning over the table slightly, "Actually, that's a pretty name."

"Can't we just call her Quinn instead? Quintessence is more than a mouthful," Blaze supplies leaning back in his chair lazily.

" _Dios mío_," Gaea starts, "Why don't you three ask what _she_ thinks?"

Shade shrugs her shoulders, "I don't care either way."

"So Quinn it is!" Blaze shouts, Zephyr giggling in agreement.

Shade, now affectionately referred to as Quinn, finds herself breaking her stoic nature as her eyes roll. She is supposed to work with these people? They're supposed to be assassins? Shaking her head, the silver-eyed teen turns on her heel and immediately the door opens.

"Hey, where ye' think yer goin', luv?" Blaze shouts.

"Training."

It isn't a moment later, two steps down the hall, that she hears rushed footsteps moving to follow. Inwardly smirking, she wonders if she wasn't alone after all.

...

The months that followed, Quinn found herself opening up around the other four teens.

Blaze was as quick-tempered and hot-headed as his element. He was generally a carefree guy, but it didn't serve anyone when he was angry. He had a foul mouth, dirty innuendos and loved to try to get a rise out of people. She wasn't all that surprised to learn he was an explosives expert, the very science behind his ability giving him an easy understanding of how C4 really works. Like Quinn, who favored blades over any other weapon, Blaze carried an affinity for knives.

Gaea was as sarcastic as she is stubborn. A fierce sense of independence and a brilliant mind, it wasn't a surprise to see her and Blaze argue often. The Spanish girl carried a deep sense of determination and could hack into any database, even when she literally has an electronic device and an internet source. Gaea often sported a telescopic staff that could extend from a foot long to six feet long.

Zephyr was as free-spirited as Quinn first believed, but with it the girl had a serious sense of loyalty. She often tried to lighten up the mood, especially after a Blaze-Gaea epic. Quick on her feet, the girl was the best for being used as a distraction, and could literally mold herself into a character in order to divert attention to her, or pick up some information from a source. Zephyr's favorite weapon of choice had become a whip, any kind of whip, the girl literally had hundreds, some simple leather, others tipped with steel, others laced with poisons.

Tempest was the greatest tactical mind Quinn had ever come across. He could calculate every conceivable outcome of any given situation. He showed a great devotion to the team and often was the voice of reason. Tempest's brilliant mind was no where near as impressive as his ability to fight with a pair of sai with quick ease and deadly accuracy.

Quinn quickly noticed how each of them, no matter how different, or how independent they were, seemed to fall in line...with her. She never believed she could lead anyone, but somehow she found herself giving commands that were instantly adhered to. They never argued her logic, never doubted her ability to get them into a facility without being caught, nor did they ever doubt her ability to get the job done. Unlike the other four, Quinn found herself appointing herself as an assassin. Zephyr always cried herself to sleep after taking a life, Gaea would become quiet, Tempest would disappear in his own little world for days and Blaze could always be found beating a punching bag until his knuckles split open and bleed. She watched how it affected her team and knew, that in order for the team to work effectively, she had to be the one to take the target's life.

That didn't mean it was easy. It never was. Even now, after she washes away the blood on her hands, she finds herself sitting in her private quarters, cleaning every single blade she had brought along with her on the mission. Whether they were used, or not, she cleaned and polished until her fingers were numb and the blades gleamed in the dim lighting of her room. After they were clean, she would take the moment of silence to sharpen the blades, making sure they were sharp enough that the kills would be quick and painless.

"It bothers ye' just as much as the rest of us, doesn't it?"

Quinn glances up at Blaze, who stands in the doorway of her private room. This was something that happened often. Blaze would often seek her out after a mission and after enough time has passed where her blades are cleansed, he would appear in her doorway. It had been a long time since someone cared about her well-being. At her pointed look, Blaze steps into the room and the door slides shut behind him.

"It bothers ye', havin' to take someone's life."

Quinn wishes it was that simple and shakes her head, "_Non_, taking out the target isn't what bothers me. It's what we leave behind. We take a spouse from a loved one; a parent from a child, a companion from a friend. We break _familles_ and _amitiés._ For what?" She pauses as she slides one of her katana blades into its sheath, "For a goal we could care less about? For a future, even if brought forth, we will probably never see? What is the point of taking these lives, if the outcome means nothing to any of us. I'm an orphan, you were a runaway, Gaea was kidnapped, Tempest was a gypsy, and Zephyr was adopted into this psycho family. None of us have anything tying us to the outside world, and yet we continue to live and serve the Light. Why? To what point or end?"

"Maybe," Blaze breaks the long silence that fell over the two, "Maybe there will be a day where we can redeem ourselves. You know how Zephyr always goes on about how there is a reason for everything. Maybe us, being who we are now, will be important in the future. Maybe, along the way, we will find a way to save lives, even when we are forced to take them."

For the first time, in a long time, Quinn found herself feeling something she hadn't felt in a long time. Hope. Hope that Blaze was right. Hope that there was indeed a way to fix what they had done, and will do. Maybe, just maybe, Quinn could save herself, and the others. After the door slides shut behind Blaze, Quinn's thoughtful gaze darkens.

The only way out is death.

_**It would be another two years until we would come across a way to fix**_** ourselves.**

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_Un Nom de la Signification -_ A Name of Importance

_Dios mío -_ My God (Spanish)

_familles _- Families

_amitiés _- Friendships

****_Non _- No

**I would like to give a huuugee thank you to Lurker. Knowing that you don't often take the time to review, but did for my story, I can't be more than pleased. No, I promise, Quinn is not all powerful, nor Mary Sue, a big part of her issue is her fear of being unaccepted by others (her eyes), and rather detached emotionally, which will be revealed in the next Chapter. For those of you who are reading and wondering, the Penance Arc will most likely only consist of five chapters, possibly six, but chapter six will be an interlude between time jump.**

**Next Chapter- the Quintessence House is founded by the team (called the Elemental Elite), Zephyr starts bringing runaways and street rats to the House and Quinn meets a runner named...(I can't tell you that! You have to read to find out!) **


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